


Giving In

by Kitty_Savella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 10:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11311605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_Savella/pseuds/Kitty_Savella
Summary: Sometimes the past doesn't matter. Sometimes you have to ignore all the negatives and just give in to the positive sensations.





	Giving In

Title: Giving In  
Author: Araea Swiftwind  
Pairing: HP/SS/TMR  
Rating: Adult + (R)  
Notes: This is a story that I’ve been working on for probably a year or more. I had a page or two done, but then just left it sitting. So, a week or so ago, I decided to pick it back up. I looked at it and thought, “Why has it taken me so long to finish this. It’s great.” That might be tooting my own horn, but if you saw some of the crap I’d written after this was started, you might understand my sentiments a bit better. Anyways, without further ado, here is the complete story, “Giving In.”

#_#_#_#_#_#

Eyes. Those crimson eyes held my own and bored into my soul. I couldn’t look away, no matter how much I wanted to. The gaze we shared was so intense that it stole my breath and I felt myself becoming lightheaded. It took a cough from somewhere behind me to break whatever spell the Dark Lord had placed on me. I looked away, twin patches of bright color lighting up my cheeks, denoting my embarrassment.

The person to whom the cough belonged stepped up right behind my left shoulder, just beyond the range of my peripheral sight. I could feel the man’s warmth, however, and for some reason it was oddly comforting. If I had been in a different situation, I might have given in to the urge to lean back against this warm force and rest my eyes and my soul. But I was not in any situation that would permit such an action.

As fate would have it, the snake of a man in front of me noticed my moment of weakness and capitalized on it immediately. He did whatever he had done before and caught my gaze, holding me prisoner in those crimson depths, while at the same time using that penetrating stare to communicate with the person behind me. The warmth came closer, and I could feel, beyond the haze those eyes put me in, the brush of cloth against my back.

The next thing I felt pushed me farther under the Dark Lord’s spell. Warm and slightly moist breath ghosted over my neck and the shell of my ear as the deep, resonating tones of the man behind me washed across the small room we were in and reached the ears of the Dark Lord. An involuntary shiver wracked my body and I could feel the blood within me racing and rushing through my veins, causing not-altogether-unpleasant sensations across my frame and fogging my mind even further.

It was the slight brushing of hair against my neck and ear that did me in and fully embarrassed me in front of the entire inner circle gathered together in that small, cramped room the Dark Lord insisted was used for this meeting. I now understood the benefits, for him, of using such a small and intimate space to gather his followers together.

With a single step forward, the Dark Lord was nearly pressed against my front, the warm stranger pressed tightly against my back. Out of the corner of my right eye, I could see smiles on many of the unmasked men’s faces, and out of my left eye, I could see the only frown in the room. That of Bellatrix Lestrange, the only female in the inner circle and the only one who was foolish and crazy enough to believe that she was anything more to the Dark Lord than a tool.

The Dark Lord leaned in closer to me, on the opposite side of my neck to the stranger, and whispered words into my ear. “Are you having a slight…problem…Potter?”

With the way the body behind me pressed in even closer, and the arms of that man moved up to wrap around my waist somewhat possessively, I knew that he had heard his Lord’s words. I felt trapped, and was slowly starting to panic at the closeness of those two male bodies, the fog rapidly lifting from my arousal-softened brain. I had a hard problem between my legs, and I knew it would only take one more of the warm force’s whispers to send me over the edge, or a single brush of anything more than my own denims to the front of me to have me making and even more embarrassing mess in my trousers. Of course, fate hated me, and was proving to be a rather nasty bitch.

“Sseverusss,” the sibilant voice of the Dark Lord hissed, “I do believe Potter hass taken a liking to you. We sshall have to do sssomething about that, sshan’t we?”

The man behind me, Severus, chuckled softly and I lost it. My eyes closed tightly and I finally leaned against the dour man’s solid chest, my whole body tightening with my release before slowly relaxing in post orgasmic bliss. My eyes remained closed, but I could feel not only the warmth of my blush across my cheeks, but also the burning gaze of each person in the room.

Severus spoke softly, almost adopting a similar hiss to his lord’s. “Don’t be ashamed of finding pleasure with another, Harry. Though the men watching you now might find your situation humiliating and demeaning, I only feel pride that I could bring you to this. It is up to you whether this humiliates you or not.”

I did not know what to do or say to that, so I simply remained quiet. The semen in my pants and denims was rapidly cooling and causing small shivers to course up and down my legs and arms, and all I could wish for was a hot soak and perhaps some clean skivvies and trousers.

The Dark Lord had a sort of half-grin half-smirk on his face, and almost imperceptibly, he brushed his thigh against my mostly-softened member, forcing it to harden painfully again. My body stiffened elsewhere as well, and Severus tightened his hold on my waist.

With a flick of his wrist, the Dark Lord signaled the rest of his followers to leave the room, giving the three of us privacy. I was quite worried as to what the man had planned for me, but when I noticed that Bellatrix had remained, I postponed thinking about what my future would hold and wondered what had kept her back against her Lord’s wishes.

“Bellatrix.” The Dark Lord stated.

“Yes, my Lord?” The slightly deranged woman answered, giving her Lord a small bow.

“If I recall correctly, I commanded all of my followersss, sssave Ssseveruss, to leave me, and yet here you remain.”

I watched as she cast her eyes down, seeming to realize what her actions were implying about her Lord. She took a deep breath and forged on regardless. “My Lord, I do not think the way you are handling the Potter brat is at all the way a Dark Lord should treat a prisoner, an enemy, or the person he is about to murder. I stay because I fear for your sanity.”

Voldemort scowled and instantly leveled his wand at his “most loyal follower.” She sucked in a startled breath and bowed further. I smiled, realizing that this bitch, the one who took my godfather away from me and ruined my friend Neville’s life, was finally getting what was coming to her.

“Bellatrix, I am disappointed in you. You, my most loyal follower. You had so much promise, so much talent. It’s sad to see it go to such waste. Crucio.”

My body tensed as the woman began to writhe in pain on the floor. I wanted her to be punished in front of me; I wanted to see her hurt. But the memories her pain brought up were quickly becoming too much. I involuntarily pushed myself farther back into Severus’ embrace, trying to take his warmth and strength for myself. I was unaware whether Voldemort and Severus realized the extent of my distress, or if they were reacting to something else entirely, however the situation did change.

“My Lord,” Severus spoke quietly. He didn’t say anything more, and made sure to state the name instead of posing it as a question. A loyal follower never questioned his Lord, especially not about how to torture and punish someone. Something Bella apparently never learned.

Voldemort’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, the only sign that he was surprised by Severus’ actions. I’d like to think that it was then that he realized how distressing the whole situation was for me, but I can’t say for sure. All I know is that a few moments later he released Bellatrix from the Cruciatus and she lay there on the floor, panting and moaning in pain.

The Dark Lord leveled a disappointed frown at her and said softly, but with much venom, “Avada Kedavra.” The sickly green light, the same color as my eyes I’d been told, engulfed her and she was dead. I thought I’d feel something more at her passing; justice, fulfillment, or something like that. Instead, I just felt sick.

I was no longer suffering from tight pants, though the slight wet spot from earlier remained to remind me where we had been before the now-dead witch had interrupted. The warm body behind me no longer aroused me, the breath softly puffing against my neck did nothing more than remind me I wasn’t alone. And somehow, even with Voldemort still standing right in front of me, almost pressed against me, my front was cold as if he weren’t there at all. I couldn’t explain why, but it made me a bit sad.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sensation of someone looking at me, staring really. My eyes slowly panned up from the floor and settled finally on the red orbs belonging to the man I should hate more than any other. He seemed to be staring at me in concern, but I felt nothing. My body began shaking slightly, trembling as if I were cold. Something was creating sticky lined down my face, so I raised my left hand to see what it was. Tears. My hand came away wet and I realized then that I was crying.

Voldemort’s eyes widened once more and he closed the last little bit of distance between us, pressing fully against my front and pinning me even more tightly against Severus behind me. The red-eyed man’s arms wrapped around both Severus and myself and held us all tightly together. I finally began to feel warmth from the body in front of me, but for some reason that still wasn’t enough. The warmth wasn’t seeping in past the surface. My soul was still cold, my heart still broken.

“Ssseverusss, we mussst move him sssomplaccce warmer. He isss shivering mossst terribly.”

“I dare say he’s in shock, though from what, I can’t be sure. I agree that lying him down will be the most beneficial course of action. We can continue from where we left off another time, once we have him stabilized.”

I barely registered their conversation through the shock that was swiftly taking over my brain. I faintly remember being lifted in strong arms and carried somewhere, though I think by that time my eyes had closed and I did not see where I was being taken. If I were in a better frame of mind, I think I would have worried about where they were going with me, but the memories of torture at the Dursleys’, my mother’s death and all of the suffering my friends have had to go through was too much for me to deal with. The last thing I remember was the feeling of smooth hands carding through my hair and a soft kiss placed upon my brow.

* * *

“Potter!”

I moaned softly and rolled over, not wanting to listen to the voice that was calling my name. I lifted the soft blanket further over my head, blocking out the bright light in the rest of the room that was threatening to pierce through my tightly shut eyes. When I realized that I could still hear that irritating voice calling my name, I burrowed my head under the pillow and tried valiantly to tune it all out. I was not ready to wake up quite yet.

I felt a solid weight push down the bed next to my right thigh and a voice sigh heavily. My body tensed, waiting for the owner of the voice to touch me. The touch didn’t come. I unburied my head from the pillow, but did not remove it from under the blanket. A second weight sat next to my left thigh and a different voice sighed as well. My body tensed further, waiting for that person to touch me or forcibly remove me from my hiding place. Neither occurred.

Now my interest was peaked, and I realized begrudgingly that I was completely awake. I wondered why neither person spoke, or tried to touch me. I wondered why they were both just sitting there, seemingly waiting for something. Surely they weren’t going to sit there until I decided to get up?

I peeked slightly out of the blankets to my left, since that was the direction my head was already turned, and noticed that Severus was sitting there, reading a book. Odd, that I didn’t hear the turning of pages. I surreptitiously ducked back under the covers, hoping that neither man noticed my interest in knowing who was sitting on the bed with me. Acting like I was still sleeping, I moaned softly and rolled over a bit, snuggling deeper into the blankets, though allowing my head to remain near the top seam so that I could now peek at the person sitting on my right.

I was already sure that the man sitting there would be Lord Voldemort, but I wanted to make sure, and to see what he was doing. Was he, too, reading while waiting for me to get up? My breath caught in my throat for a moment when both men shifted. However, when they both settled back in, seeming to have just shifted positions, I let the breath I had been holding out slowly. It wouldn’t do to alert them now.

After waiting a few more moments, making sure that they would think me asleep once more, I cautiously peeked out of the top of the blanket to look at the man on my right. My emerald gaze locked with its ruby counterpart and I gasped. I hadn’t realized that the man wouldn’t be occupied with something. My gaze remained locked with that of Voldemort and I couldn’t move.

“It sseemsss our little Lion hass awoken, Sseverusss.” There seemed to be a note of humor in the pale man’s voice.

“I’m glad you’ve finally decided to wake up, Harry. I thought you might sleep forever, and we’d be forced to wake you like some Muggle fairytale.”

“Not that you were really againssst that outcome, were you Sseverusss?” Voldemort asked, chuckling slightly. It was odd to hear the Dark Lord poking fun at someone other than myself.

I sat up before the potions master could respond, and thought I could see two pale pink blobs on either side of the man’s face. It was hard to tell without the aid of my glasses. My brow wrinkled slightly and I closed my eyes again, my head slightly throbbing from trying to see details. Something cool and metallic was placed in my hand and my eyes flew open again. Severus had handed me my glasses.

Settling the spectacles on my face, I blinked several times as the room came into focus. I was in a large set of rooms, from what I could tell. I seemed to be in the south section of the space, as I could see a sitting room a way to the north and a door each to the east and west. About five paces away from the foot of the bed was the opening to what appeared to be the bedroom. I was slightly confused because it wasn’t a room exactly. It was more like a large niche set into the south wall that could be blocked off from the sitting room by an impressive black velvet curtain. I was itching to explore the rest of the space, as I’d never been in a room so large, but I was nervous that I wouldn’t be allowed out of bed.

“Doess the room meet with your approval, Potter?” The Dark Lord asked. I was certain he said it mockingly, though there was a little voice in the back of my mind that was calling me an idiot for doubting the man’s sincerity. I smacked the voice and replied.

“Sure, though it’s not like it matters. Whether I like it or not, it’s not like I’m going to get a different one. I’m rather shocked you didn’t have a house elf throw me in the dungeons for the night.” And as I said it, I realized that was the truth. Even when I was snuggling in the covers and refusing to get up, there was part of me that was marveling at the fact that I was even in a bed. I was shocked that Severus and Voldemort both were sitting next to me without touching me, or forcing me to do anything, or hurting me. It was only now that it all came together in the forefront of my mind.

Severus scoffed and pierced me with his black gaze, “Of course it matters, you idiot boy. If the rooms were too large, too drafty or too warm, we’d want to know about it.”

I highly doubted that, and I’m sure that it showed on my face. “Right, because you’ve always cared so much about my comfort.” I was fully aware that I was sneering by this point, and that my voice was dripping with sarcasm. 

Guilt and shame began warring within me for dominance. I hated myself for the shameless way I acted the night before. What was I thinking, allowing these men to see me weak, to see my true colors? I was just asking to be used and betrayed. I wasn’t a naïve Gryffindor anymore. I had graduated from Hogwarts, and I had been taken prisoner. I wasn’t on a pleasure cruise to the Bahamas with friends I could trust. I was at the mercy of my most hated enemy and the man who made the last seven years of my life hell.

Neither man seemed to catch on to the fact that my mood was turning darker, or that I was pulling away from them. But that was all well and good for me, as it wouldn’t do to be sucked back into their trap. I needed to get away from them. Even if I couldn’t escape the prison, I at least wanted to be away from the guards.

“I need to use the loo.”

Something must have leaked out in my voice because Voldemort stood and motioned to Severus. The potions master stood as well and quickly left the room through the door in the sitting room. I was left alone with the Dark Lord, my most hated enemy.

“Your mood sseemsss to have changed rather quickly, Potter. I can tell from the look in your eyes that your brain isss doing far too much thinking. Where isss that wonton thing from lassst night? The boy who came from a few whisssspersss?”

I tried to close my ears to the sibilant hissing of Voldemort. I didn’t want him to shake my resolve. I didn’t want him to turn me into the type of person I hated, the kind of person who doesn’t fight back. I couldn’t lose to this man. I couldn’t let him change who I was.

“That was a mistake, and you know it. I let myself be caught up in sensations instead of remember where I was and who I was with. But not anymore. I remember what you’ve done to me. I remember how many of my friends and family members you’ve taken from me. And I remember ever cruel word Snape has ever said to me these last seven years. Each and every unprovoked attack on my character. I won’t forget where I am ever again.” I slipped out of bed, uncaring whether or not I was wearing pyjamas, and heading towards one of the doors. I just hoped it wasn’t the wrong one.

“That door leadss to the wardrobe, Potter. Unlesss you’re planning on changing clothess insstead of ussing the loo, I’d head in the other direction.”

Right then, I hated his smug face more than I had in the last several months. I didn’t really want to change clothes without taking a shower first, but I figured I could probably cast a few cleaning charms and call it good. It was then that I realized that I didn’t have my wand. I paused and closed my eyes for a moment, knowing that it would look to the bastard that I was in fact going the wrong direction. However, I was just trying to get my temper under control before I blew the room up with some accidental magic.

“I know where the fuck I’m going, you asshole.” I knew my language wasn’t really called for, but that was the only way I knew to let out my anger without using magic. I stormed off toward the wardrobe and slammed the door behind me. I closed my eyes immediately, not really wanting to see where I was for fear that I’d be awed by it’s decadence.

I heard a door open in the other room, then close again. Everything was a bit muffled from inside the wardrobe, but I could hear well enough. From the sounds, it seemed like Severus had returned with several potions, or possibly breakfast. He spoke quietly to Voldemort, and I could only just make out what he said.

“Where is Harry?”

“He ssstormed off.”

“And you let him? That doesn’t sound like you, Tom.”

“And what was I to do, Severuss? Tie him to the bed? Let him hate me even more?”

“What was he so upset about?”

“It sseemsss that he regretss his actionss last night. He sssaid that he would never again forget why he hatess uss both. Me for killing ssso many he holdsss dear, and you for tormenting him for the lassst sseven yearsss.”

There was a pause here in the conversation and I wasn’t sure what was going on. It sort of sounded like Severus had put down whatever he was holding and had walked farther into the room, but I couldn’t be sure. What shocked me the most was the exchange itself. I had no idea that Severus and Voldemort were so close. I had thought that Dumbledore was the only one who called Voldemort ‘Tom’. It sounded like Severus and Voldemort were…friends…or maybe…lovers. Before I could muse on that too much, they began speaking again.

“I hate that he’s been hurt so much. I should have reigned in my emotions better. Just because I hated James… I’m a fool, Tom. I alienated Lily’s son because I hated his father. The same way I alienated Lily.”

“Yess, Severusss, one of your many faultsss iss that you have far too much pride. But, I don’t think your actionss againsst the boy will be nearly as hard to forgive as my own. You are only guilty of inssulting him, hiss intelligence, and hiss family. I am guilty of trying to kill him, hiss friendss and hiss family. Not sso easy to forgive.”

“I hardly think he’ll be in the mood to forgive either of us anything. He’s been through too much, been told to think too much. And our mistakes are too great.”

“Severusss…” Again, the conversation halted. This time, however, I could just make out the sound of rustling fabric. My imagination showed me an image of the two embracing, Severus’ head on Voldemort’s shoulder, his eyes closed in silent pain. I shook my head roughly and scoffed to myself. There was no way that Severus would be doing that. He was too proud, like Voldemort said. I eased the door open slightly and peeked into the room.

There, at the foot of the bed, Voldemort was holding Severus to his chest. The black-haired man indeed had his head on the older man’s shoulder and his eyes, which I could only see because his head was turned towards the wardrobe door, were closed tightly. There were new lines on his face, which I could only take indicated how much emotional pain he was actually in. I quickly, yet quietly, closed the door to the wardrobe.

Were they staging all of this, knowing that I could hear every word they were saying? Was this all an act to get me to sympathize with them? And even if it were an act…why would it affect me so much? Why should I care that they are sorry for being such jerks over the years? The point of it all was that they did it. And they know how much it hurt me. Who cares that they are sorry now? That doesn’t negate the last 18 years of my life…

Lost in my own head, I stopped trying to listen to their conversation. I don’t know if they resumed talking or not. I simply slid down the back of the door to the carpeted floor and thought about everything I had heard so far. Did it make a difference? Could I forgive them for killing my parents? Could I forgive Voldemort for killing Cedric in the graveyard? Could I forgive Severus for all those years of verbal abuse? Would forgiving them be turning my back on those who died for me? At that last question, I started to cry.

* * *

I don’t know how many hours I spent crying in the wardrobe. My eyes felt like they were full of sand and my throat was raw from the sobs. I was certain my face looked a mess, covered in tear tracks and snot. I slowly uncurled from the ball I was in and stretched out my legs, attempting to regain feeling in them. As I stretched, I looked around a bit.

Several different-colored robes hung at the back of the closet in three different sizes. At the far right, robes that looked just large enough to fit my own slight frame hung, mostly black, but some in green and grey as well. In the center were slightly larger robes, approximately large enough to fit Severus’ own slight frame. All of these robes were jet black, save for one, which seemed to be a black-green color. To the farthest left of the rack at the very back of the wardrobe were a last set of robes, all black, that I assumed would only fit Voldemort himself.

Why were there three different sized sets of robes in one closet? And why were there any that would fit me? I was confused, and a little worried, but mostly tired. I didn’t really want to think about what it could mean that they were providing me with clothes.

I stood up shakily, using the door as a support. What I really needed to find was something to clean off my face with. I very well couldn’t exit the wardrobe looking like some sort of muggle monster from the ‘30’s. I looked carefully at the two walls I hadn’t examined yet. The wall to my right held what looked to be a shoe rack and a cupboard. The wall to my left was full of drawers. I decided to look in the cupboard first to see if there were any handkerchiefs neatly stacked in there.

The wooden doors of the cupboard opened noiselessly. There were two shelves in the cupboard. On the bottom shelf were sheets, dust ruffles, pillow shams and cases. On the left side of the top shelf were thin summer blankets, and on the right side were a couple of heavier winter duvets. I closed the doors softly and moved on, disappointed that I couldn’t find what I was looking for.

Slowly, I moved over to the set of drawers hanging on the wall. There were nine drawers in all, and several of them were over my head. I assumed that Voldemort, and possibly Severus, would use magic to get into them. I started with the bottom-most drawer. It held socks, all of which were the deepest black. I opened the next drawer. It held yet more socks, each of these pewter grey. The next drawer held undergarments, each made of black satin. The one up from that also held undergarments, these emerald green silk. I was beginning to think that Voldemort might have been a little obsessive-compulsive about his socks and underwear. Opening the next drawer revealed yet more underwear, these ones plain white cotton.

I closed this drawer as well and sighed, wondering if a Dark Lord even had handkerchiefs. Sighing deeply, I tried one last drawer before vowing to give up my search. Inside this sixth drawer were many little boxes. They looked like the type of jewelry boxes muggles got rings and such in. I didn’t really think Lord Voldemort had a fetish for women’s jewelry, so I opened a box to see what he could be keeping in them. Cufflinks. Each and ever box was full of gold and silver cufflinks. There had to have been more than fifty different boxes in that drawer alone. And no two pairs of cufflinks were the same. Each one was made of a different metal or had different gemstones set in them. I sighed and closed the drawer.

“And what was it exactly you were looking for? Or were you simply poking your nose about?” The smooth voice of Severus Snape shocked me and I almost turned around to face him before I remembered why I was looking for a handkerchief in the first place. I took a deep breath to still the trembling of my heart.

“I’m looking for a handkerchief. I tried the cupboard, but that was simply full of bed linens. So, I thought I might try these drawers, but they were mostly filled with socks and underwear. I got distracted when I came across the cufflinks.” I hated admitting such a thing to him, but I figured I wasn’t going to find the handkerchiefs on my own, and I might as well be honest about what exactly I was doing.

I heard Severus walk towards me, then felt a solid heat just behind me, mere millimeters from actually brushing against my pyjama bottoms. I desperately wanted him to wrap his arms around me as he did the night before, but I was certain he wouldn’t. I made it clear to Voldemort earlier that I wanted nothing to do with either man. I had no illusions that either of them would put that aside and do whatever they wanted. As much as I hadn’t wanted to admit it earlier, I knew that they did care how I felt and what I wanted. They proved it by leaving me alone for however many hours I had cried on the floor of this very wardrobe.

“The handkerchiefs are one more up, in this drawer here,” he said, finally allowing his front to press into my back as he reached over my head and opened the drawer, precisely grabbing a pristine white handkerchief and handing it to me. “We don’t normally need them, seeing as we have magic, but for forms sake it’s always good to have them around. I suppose for times just like these.”

Even after closing the drawer and handing me the material, Severus didn’t move away from me. He was still pressed against my back, his hands resting lightly on my hips just above the waistband of my trousers. He didn’t say anything more, simply stood there, touching me softly. My traitorous body began to shiver, not out of fright or cold, but out of longing and sexual tension. I quickly wiped my face completely clean with the white square of fabric, then wadded it up and placed it in my pyjama pocket. I didn’t want Severus to see what a mess I had been.

As soon as the handkerchief was safely in my pocket, Severus turned me around. His black eyes searched my face, noting each tear track that refused to be scrubbed away and the redness of my eyes. He moved one of his hands from the soft skin of my bare hip and up to my face, brushing his thumb across my cheek. I could feel myself coloring, embarrassed by his tenderness.

I held his gaze for several moments, allowing myself to get lost in his obsidian eyes. My body didn’t even tense as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over my petal pink lips. My eyes closed against my will, as I really wanted to watch this man kiss me. I angled my head up just a little more and waited for the kiss. I wasn’t disappointed.

When Severus’ lips met mine, my legs began to quiver. I wrapped my arms around his neck so that I wouldn’t fall. He automatically wrapped both of his strong arms around my waist and pulled me close to him, kissing me softly but passionately. His tongue gently brushed against my bottom lip, silently asking for permission to enter. I gladly gave it, opening my mouth to him and letting him explore wherever he wanted to. I was so absorbed in the kiss that I let out and undignified squeak and jumped a bit when a second body pressed against my back.

Voldemort must have seen Severus and I kissing and got jealous. I could feel the evidence of the man’s arousal against my rear, his warmth seeping through my back. Thin, dry lips began kissing at my neck, hands exploring my unclothed sides. I gasped, breaking the kiss with Severus, and leaned my head back against Voldemort’s shoulder. His lips continued to caress my neck, just as his hands continued to caress my skin. For once I was glad that I wasn’t wearing a top.

Severus had since unwound his arms from around my waist, his fingertips now ghosting up and down my chest. It was like he was trying to learn the exact contour of my body so that if he didn’t have it in front of him, he could remember what I felt like. My brain began to fog after that thought as Severus decided it was a good idea to learn how I tasted as well, his tongue moving over the flushed skin of my chest to explore each of my pebbled nipples.

I opened my mouth and moaned at the contact, his wet mouth creating such warmth against my skin. My mind was rapidly shutting down all of its higher processes, thinking only of each individual sensation as they registered. A touch against my side here, a lick against my nipple there, and that warm breath puffing against my ear.

My cock was painfully hard and right then I decided that I wanted nothing more than to have some part of either of these men touching me there. I whimpered shamelessly, wiggling my hips back against Voldemort’s turgid flesh. His breath hitched and his hips shot forward, grinding into my arse. Both of Voldemort’s hands gripped my hips tightly, tight enough to bruise, and held me to him. My head pressed back farther and I moaned again, letting both men know how turned on I was.

Severus took his time pleasing me, slowly laving each of my nipples, nipping at the flesh and teasing me. His hands were still moving on my skin, skimming across my sides and slipping just under the waistband of my pyjamas. He was teasing me so thoroughly I thought I might explode from sheer frustration. The friction of the cotton against my swollen cock just wasn’t enough to satisfy my lust.

“Damn it, Severus… I-I can’t…I can’t take it anymore… I need you…need you to touch me… Please…” I knew by now that I wasn’t above begging for what I wanted. I was in such a passionate haze that none of my darker emotions could get through. I needed to get off, and I knew that these two people were the only ones who could do that for me. I needed their mouths on me, their hands running over my heated flesh, their warmth pressed tight against me.

My plea must have gotten to him because Severus gave one last nip to my left nipple before gracefully dropping to his knees. With a firm tug he slipped my pyjamas off my hips and allowed them to pool on the ground. The motion caused a little eddy of air to flit across the superheated flesh of my rigid cock and I gasped aloud at the sinful sensation. When Voldemort moved behind me, it elicited a moan as the course fabric of his robes rubbed deliciously against my bare arse.

I felt his breath first, sliding silkily across my sensitive skin. I tensed my muscles, waiting with baited breath for that sexy mouth to finally descend on my hard cock. I wanted it so bad, I wanted him so badly… The waiting was killing me. Each second I stood there watching him breath on me was another second my cock grew painfully harder. Just as I finally thought I’d die of high blood pressure, his mouth finally engulfed me.

I cried out in pleasure as I finally felt the sensation I had been waiting for. The hot, moist cavern surrounding my prick was heaven. Voldemort latched his mouth on my neck at the same time Severus began lightly sucking on my member. Between the two sensations, it would have been a miracle if I could have lasted more than a minute. I was gone after thirty seconds, my cum shooting down the back of Severus’ throat as he sucked me dry. Voldemort sucked harder on my neck for a few additional seconds before letting go, a dark red love bite sure to be in his wake.

My body slumped back boneless against Voldemort, my eyes slipping closed. I felt drained, like Severus’ mouth sucked more than just my semen from my body. I could hear a faint rumbling noise, and I assumed that it was either Voldemort or Severus laughing at me. For once, I didn’t really care. My mind was still fogged from the orgasm and I felt too good to complain.

Voldemort picked me up and carried me to the bed in the other room, the smooth texture of the sheets tipping me off to where I was. When I didn’t feel the bed dip with additional weight, my eyes slowly fluttered open. Both men were standing a little way away, and I wondered why they didn’t join me. It seemed like they were going to just leave me there, and I began to panic.

“Where are you going?” I hated the quavering I could hear in my voice.

Severus turned first, looking back at me with something unknown in his eyes. “We were going to leave you to rest. You seemed tired.”

“Don’t go…please.” I sounded like a needy child. I turned my face away in shame.

Voldemort was at my side in seconds, his outer robe already on the floor, his hands working furiously at the buttons of his inner robe. “Of courssse, Harry. If you wish usss to sstay, of courssse we will.”

Severus too was removing his clothes. I suppose they both figured that if I were naked, then they should be as well. It took hardly any time at all before they were both climbing in the over-large bed with me and I could feel their heat surrounding me. With Voldemort on my left and Severus on my right, I finally felt content with my situation. I thought that I could finally forget—if not forgive—the wrongs each had done to me in the past. I thought that if they would just stay by my side, keep me warm and supported like this, then I’d be okay with whatever lay ahead.

Voldemort nuzzled gently against my neck, coaxing a soft moan from my throat. Severus brushed his hand against my thigh and I let out a whimper. My hips involuntarily bucked forwards against Severus’ and the friction between our two bodies caused me to instantly grow hard again. Sandwiched between these men I felt like I could definitely go for another round.

“Who wants the honor of deflowering The-Boy-Who-Lived?” I said, cheekier than I really felt. I was nervous that neither man would want to, that I was too much of a freak or a child to incite these men’s voracious appetites.

“Well, since I got the pleasure of your first two orgasms, I believe that Tom should get the honor of taking your virginity. Don’t you agree, Tom?”

“Quite, Sseverusss. I have waited long enough for my turn.” With that, Voldemort wandlessly performed a lubrication charm on my pucker, the cold sensation alerting me to what was going on. It was odd, to say the least, to feel a cool gel-like substance suddenly coating my insides. It was odder, I must admit, to feel one of Voldemort’s long, slender fingers entering me slowly.

I automatically tensed at the intrusion, but the soft petting of Severus’ hand on my thigh had me relaxing almost immediately. “If you tense, Harry, then it will not feel good. Focus on something else, and before you know it, you’ll be filled.”

While Severus was speaking, Voldemort had managed to slide a second finger inside of me, though as soon as it entered past the first knuckle the pain was enough to distract me from Severus’ words.

“A-ah…what am I supposed to f-focus on?” I was having trouble speaking without my voice hitching, as the pain of being stretched was the most distracting thing. Severus answered my question by stroking one of his cool hands across the warm flesh of my engorged cock. My eyes slid closed immediately and my breath began hitching for an entirely different reason.

“Focus on the tactile sensations, the sound of my voice, the blood throbbing through your body.” The man continued to manipulate my heated erection while Voldemort added a third finger. I felt full, and warm, and appreciated—for the first time I could ever remember. My head knew that I should hate both of these men. Severus, who had tortured me for years and mocked my pain, and Voldemort who was the cause of that pain, but when they treated me like this, like I was something precious to be taken care of—it was hard to remember to be angry and hateful.

Before I knew it, Voldemort was mounting me from behind. His long, thick shaft sliding into my arse, filling it up much fuller than his three fingers had been previously. I let out a low keening moan, enjoying the delicious friction. Severus kissed me, his expert tongue tracing the insides of my mouth, dueling my own tongue into submission. The potions master canted his hips into mine, adding the friction of his cock to the rhythmic stroking of his hand, almost pushing me over the edge.

There was a break in the kiss and I used it to whimper and plead, “Oh, Merlin, more.” I knew that later, when this fog of lust cleared and my brain had time to process what was happening here, I would probably hate myself. There I was, in the Dark Lord’s bed, being fucked by two of the evilest men alive. And I was enjoying every minute of it. Whore. That’s what I’d call myself. I knew that if my friends knew, if the public knew, that’s what they’d be calling me. I didn’t care anymore. There was no better feeling in this world than having a cock jammed up your arse and another insistently rubbing against your own.

Severus nipped at my neck, his breath ghosting over my ear. His hand tightened on my member and twisted just-so when it got to the tip and I stopped breathing. There was pleasure, so much pleasure, that I didn’t know how to process it. Something was tightening in my belly, like a spring about to snap. Voldemort prodded something deep inside me, and the spring sprung.

I was coming, hard and fast, white jets of seed coating my stomach and the hand of the man in front of me. My back had arched, my head resting on the shoulder of the man behind me. Everything disappeared. My mind was a haze. I didn’t know who I was, where I was, when I was. Nothing mattered but the intense wave of pleasure I was drowning in.

A sharp nip to my shoulder and I was crashing back to earth. I was in bed, with Severus and Tom and they had just made me come. Tom was coming deep inside of me, filling me with warm liquid seed. Severus was still rutting against me, squeezing his own erection now, instead of mine. I leant forward and kissed him, deep and sensual. When I pulled away, he too was coming, adding his semen to the mess on my stomach. We all paused, panting in an attempt to fill our lungs with air.

My eyes slid closed. I was tired, not just from having sex with two men, but also from crying and fretting in the wardrobe for hours. Even with a still-hard cock in my arse and a sticky mess on my stomach, I was finding it hard to stay awake. I assume my partners knew this, as Tom slid gently out of me and Severus banished the mess. I sighed happily and snuggled into the warm body before me, reaching back to make sure Tom snuggled too. If I were going to sleep, they were going to join me. There was time enough later to worry about what all this meant.

The End


End file.
